Castillos de Papel

Poor bug, he had a violent school
Growing up in hotels with the rats that ran rampant
A transvestite is the one who sends him to school
His mother loves him, but she is sick in La Lleca
Huh
Among the fumes of the pot
Knives bleed, triggers are pulled
In the shrink shop on the street and its gonorrhea
Neither for firm floors nor horrible jackets
And if the virgin appears (I send her, to my son)
Rough life has no mercy for the ghetto
Another child who transformed his fears into rage
Murderer, but with beautiful thoughts
Weapons shine brighter than the stars of heaven
Do good to whom? If they kill someone for pesos
Feel good with who? He dies alone, my dog
And even if you don't want to, whatever, you have to look for money

Castles
Growing with the days
Of paper
The breezes carry them away
The swing
A hard and cruel game
Chess
I can't lose it
The couch
Another game to play
of the king
The king's throne, my man
Running of the bulls
School, life, my friend
From the coming and going

No nobility
We started going out to steal every morning
With the partner who also loves money
After the coins with the suicidal metal
I blocked a compliment that owed me
And I bought him a grenade in case he didn't believe
I left the neighborhood, his family was looking for me
It was him or me, but someone would die
And for my mother to cry (for hers to suffer)
I have already felt hell with all its fury
I walked through shit on scary nights
I smiled at life even though it was a son of a bitch
Cunning rats (stay still), everything is to add lucas
A criminal gang recruit among many
Another alive among dead people and absurd friendships
Who indulge and drink more than prostitutes
Castles
Growing with the days
Of paper
The breezes carry them away
The swing
A hard and cruel game
Chess
I can't lose it
The couch
Willing to be the reaper, luck forgets me
He didn't want to fix my freedom that day
I fell into their fumes for that murder
I went to the roof, but they caught me
Years have passed and I have not been convicted
Only my God knows what I'm going through
I will never forget that night of drinks
Son of a bitch gun, you wouldn't have killed him
Cold and dirty war, but I'm going for mine
On any given day, life is extinguished and evaporated
Everything is borrowed and in the end no one takes any money
Illusions are lost, dreams agonize
From making harpy cages many say nice things
And if the streets could talk, what do you think they would say?
Thousands die in line and others remain gray for days
Months, years millions of bad apples
The couch
Another day no play
of the king
The king stone, my man
Running of the bulls
School, life, my friend
From the coming and going